


Full Of Secrets

by kfloser



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, Might write a part two, Some sadness but mainly love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kfloser/pseuds/kfloser
Summary: Based on the recent revelation that Delia can drive.





	1. Chapter 1

On any other night, Delia Busby would’ve been asleep by 10:30 - especially since she didn’t have her girlfriend to distract her with “card games” around. The hours seemed to pass so lazily, as if they didn’t want the Welsh girl to have her happiness restored, they seemed to not care. Delia had never hated time so much, never realised just how slowly it could move. She’d gone through three mugs of milky Horlicks, and fixed her ruffled sheets at least 5 times, and it was only 4:53. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t seem to drift off - how could she, when Patsy was returning today, and she was picking her up? How could she possibly sleep, when all that was on her mind was a 5’8 redhead, with a smile carved from stars, and sunshine, and anything warm. The notions of how to sleep seemed to be lost on the girl, her cerulean eyes refused to stay shut. Delia couldn’t even warrant going downstairs, she was sure the nuns were awake, but didn’t want to disturb them. Instead, she perched on her bed, the lingering taste of sweetened milk on her lips, and her eyes drooping shut, only to rapidly reopen, and face the languid clock once more. 

Despite her enervated body, her mind was vigilant. It seemed just perfect that she was getting tired nearer the time she needed to be up. Patsy’s ship was set to arrive at 8:40, and the drive was around an hour. The need for sleep had never been so desperate, but sleep itself had never been so utterly unobtainable. Counting sheep didn’t work, listening to the clock tick didn’t, either. With an exasperated huff, she stood, approaching her writing desk. Tucked inside an old notebook were the letters she’d received. Each time she read the words, it was like she was reading them for the first time - or she felt like she was, anyway. They were all signed differently, and some had sadder tones, with the ink having bled from Patsy’s tears, or a spray of the girls perfume. Some were littered with words of love that rang through Delia’s head all week round, but each still made her smile. Knowing Patsy was still thinking of her, despite all that was going on, and knowing her letters provided some solace to the other girl, it was melancholic. 

The brunette was grateful that the melancholy would end today, and they could revert to simple love, albeit hidden. Without Patsy here, even the most marvellous sunsets seemed drab, and uninspiring, despite the soft colours and rays of sunshine. Delia’s lips curved into a beaming smile, hurting her cheeks, but she’d never been so grateful for an ache. She tucked them back into the leather-bound book, slinking back to bed, and crawling under the covers, shutting her eyes, with the image of Patience Mount sweeping off a boat, and smiling that radiant smile dancing in her mind, keeping the anxious thoughts at bay, keeping the nerves away whilst she drifted off. 

Never in her life had she ever been so grateful to hear her alarm ringing, alerting her that it was 6:50 A.M., never had that usually ominous ringing been such a welcoming sound. Not long until she could feel the familiarity of Patsy’s hands on her waist, or her lips on hers, or even just watching her chest rise and fall when she awoke before her. Delia bounced on the spot, her grin so wide and so pure it but the sun to shame. She balled her fists as she jumped up and down happily, grateful her room was just above a storage room. She muffled a quiet squeal into her teal jumper, trying to stop the smile that hurt her jaw, but finding any attempts futile. She changed into slacks and her teal jumper, opting to keep it simple, but still baring in mind the time Patsy had commented on how good teal looks on the Welsh woman. 

Delia waited by the bathroom door, washbag in hand, and her leg jiggling from giddiness. The tired tones of Barbara rang out from behind her, “Are you off to meet Patsy?” She queried, leaning against the hallway wall. Delia nodded, wanting to seem casual about the entire thing. “You must be excited, you two are rather close,” Barbara continued, rubbing her eyes with her balled fists. Delia grinned, her eyes on the rather hideously patterned carpet beneath their feet as she nodded, in silent confirmation. Delia feared that if she spoke, she’d gush about how much she adored Patsy, and how the days seemed dull without her, and how empty and desolate her bed had felt, and how much she missed listening to Patsy talk about her day. A nod didn’t nearly cover how elated she was, but it would have to suffice. 

Delia rushed into the bathroom as soon as Trixie left it, brushing her teeth with vigour, and surveying her appearance carefully, scrutinizing the way her hair fell. Her eyes glanced briefly to her wrist watch - she didn’t need to eat breakfast, Delia wanted to take Patsy out for breakfast - dine in a fine hotel, with their eyes on each other the entire time, and the other people in the room rendered irrelevant. Delia brushed her hair into a slightly messy ponytail, and rushed out. Phyllis. She needed to see Phyllis. Delia dropped her washbag off into her room, not caring that it bounced off her mattress, and onto the floor. She jogged down the stairs with such haste she feared she’d fall. Stood at the bottom of the staircase, with a contended smile painted on her lips, was Phyllis Crane, the only person who knew the ordeal Delia had suffered over the weeks. She extended her hand, passing Delia the jangling metal keys, which she gratefully slipped into her pocket. “Thank you, for everything,” Delia leaned forward, quickly embracing the older woman, who quickly patted her on the back.  
”You’re welcome, now, coffee, and then off you go. And don’t ruin my car!” Phyllis cautioned, allowing Delia to pass and half-run into the kitchen. 

”Nurse Busby, you look rather chipper,” Sister Julienne’s soft smile temporarily halted Delia in her steps, and Delia’s grin faltered, meanwhile the nun’s only widened “Ah! Nurse Mount is returning today, I assume you’re still okay with the sleeping arrangements?” She tilted her head to the left as the question left her lips. “Yes, of course. Anything to help out a friend,” Delia replied, feebly trying to hide her excitement. Fortunately, the nurse was blessed with naturally innocent looking features, so the sister just nodded, and continued about her tasks. Unlike other mornings, the scent of coffee didn’t make tears form in Delia’s eyes. There had been some mornings when she’d smell the bitter liquid, and need to excuse herself because the mere reminder of Patsy bought tears to her eyes, and an emptiness in her chest. But today was different, today there were no tears, and Delia could even drink the coffee without being reminded of Patsy. Granted, her eagerness mocked her, by burning the roof of her mouth. 

10 minutes passed like an hour, the hands on her wristwatch moving so slowly it angered her. She sipped the coffee, observing the conversation wordlessly, only chiming in if she was spoken to. One by one, each of the nurses were called out and Delia opted to just leave early - maybe the boat would be early docking? A girl could dream. Delia took her coat, pulling it over her shoulders, and buttoning it up effortlessly. She shut the heavy door behind her, walking towards the beige coloured car. Patsy knew one of the nurses would be meeting her, but she didn’t know it was Delia. The other nurse didn’t even know Delia could drive - she’d never raised the subject. She’d been taught back in Pembrokeshire, by an uncle. She’d never owned a car, but she’d driven a few in her time - all of varying sizes. Delia placed her hands on the wheel, her lips curling into a small but eager smile, as she moved a hand to turn on the engine. 

The roads of Poplar were easy to navigate when you’ve spent hours trying to find dark alleyways to sneak kisses in, or scoured the streets at night with the one you love, appreciating the silence, and soft glow of streetlamps. Driving was like riding a bike - you never really forget it, even if you go periods without doing it. Much like card games, as well. She checked the time on her wrist watch as she halted to let a gaggle of school children pass - 8:26. She was about 10 minutes away from the port. Her heart started to race, she could feel the organ against her ribcage, pounding with adrenaline. She wished she could kiss Patsy as soon as she saw her - run her hands through the soft ginger locks, and tell her how brave she was, and how she made even the dreary overcast Tuesday sky seem like a picture perfect summer’s day. But she couldn’t, not until Delia found one of those dark alleyways they were all too familiar with. That’s when the sadness sunk back in, and the tears welled again. With the letters, they could pour out their most intense feelings - how they dreamed of being married, or how they couldn’t picture a happy life without the other. But back in reality, those words would have to remain unsaid, or spoken in hushed tones, when the lights were out. Delia tried not to think of that - tried not to remember how each kiss seemed to be interrupted, or chaste. 

She pulled the handbreak back, parked on the side of the pavement, with the docks just ahead of her. It was as if they were meeting for the first time again - Delia’s heart pounded, and her thoughts rushed and raced in her mind, tripping over each other. She glanced up, seeing the boat nearing quickly. She had 4 minutes to prepare herself - to prepare herself for sad Pats, or happy Pats, or quiet Pats. She would love any of them - she just wanted Pats. With a nervous grin, she exited the car, shutting the door behind her, and locking it up. Nurse Crane would have her guts for garters if anything happened to the vehicle. Delia cleared her throat, hoping the pathetic attempt at a cough would stop the lump that was forming in her throat, threatening to debar the girl of speech.

The people surrounding Delia probably all felt the same contorted mixture of love, nervousness, and excitement. It was a deadly concoction- the smaller woman wasn’t sure if she wanted to run, kiss Patsy, or bounce up and down on the spot for the second time that morning. She stood her ground, near the front of the crowds of hopeful wives, or husbands, or parents. Breathing suddenly felt harder than usual, and her eyes were open so wide that they began to burn, but she feared if she blinked even once, Patsy would’ve passed. Delia watched as people were reunited with their loved ones, happily exchanging amorous hugs, or doting smiles. It wasn’t until Delia’s brain registered the woman with red hair, standing taller than even some of the men that she realised just how much she’d missed her. She’d missed everything, all of Patsy - cuddling, arguing, drinking in their room, going out for meals, watching Patsy get ready in the morning, and mumbling “I love you” when they were both still half-asleep, when Patsy would have to retreat to her own room. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the sleeve of her coat. 

When Patsy reached the pavement, Delia could see her looking around, trying to spot Trixie, or Barbara. Delia wanted to restrain herself, but she barged forward, past the crowds of people, and towards the girl who made even a plain shirt look insanely attractive. Delia could see Patsy slowly register who was coming towards her - the slow smile spreading onto her lips, and the way happy tears clouded the azure of her eyes. Patsy looked dishevelled, to say the least, but none of that mattered. Delia jogged forward, mirroring Patsy’s beam, and tear filled eyes. She extended her arms, wrapping them around Patsy as soon as she was in reach. The taller woman didn’t hesitate for even a moment, she encased Delia in a hug so laden with love it was as if neither could feel anything else. Patsy managed to choke out a “I love you,” into Delia’s lavender scented hair, and Delia released a quiet sob, uttering an “I love you too” into the material of her girlfriends tweed coat. Patsy felt as if she hadn’t smiled since she left, she’d had a constant emptiness in her chest, to match the emptiness in her arms. But, she felt content now - with her girlfriend against her chest, the muted scent of lavender, and the feeling of Delia’s hair tickling her neck. Even the overcast, cloudy skies of London were welcoming. 

Everything just felt so natural, right down to the dirt on the pavement beneath her feet. Hong Kong wasn’t her home, her home was here, with the people she knew, and the girl she loved, and the streets she knew. The grief sunk away for a moment, any sadness being replaced with contentment - the pure feeling of being back in Delia’s arms was a relief. Patsy eventually broke the hug, to look down at Delia. Delia looked back up, a heaviness falling upon her as she realised how tired Patsy looked. “I’m so sorry,” Delia mumbled, wishing she could kiss Patsy’s cheeks, and hold her hand. Patsy just nodded, and swallowed. “C’mon, let’s get you home,” Delia took Patsy’s bag, and walked towards the car. Patsy looked around for a taxi, before catching up with Delia. “I’m driving us back,” her girlfriend spoke confidently, dropping the suitcase to unlock the car, and place the luggage in the back. 

Patsy had tons of questions, but for now, she wanted to fall asleep on Delia’s chest, to the sound of Elvis Presley ringing out through the room, and the scent of hot chocolate lingering in the air. “I didn’t know you could drive,” Patsy seemed amazed, her eyes wide and full of admiration for the girl next to her. Delia longed to see her smile, to see those dimples and the crinkles next to her eyes, so with her best attempt at a suave wink, she replied with “I’m full of secrets, Nurse Mount.” The meagre pursuit of flirtation provoked a smile from the other, and Delia felt fulfilled. Patsy was back where she belonged, back where she could be comforted, and sang to sleep, and given all the love Delia had, and more. She was back where Delia could keep her warm, and wipe away her tears - there’d be no more tear stained letters, no more waiting. Delia looked around, leaning over, and quickly pressing a kiss to Patsy’s cheek. “I’ve missed you, so much,” Delia looked around, before pulling out of the parking space. Patsy’s lips formed that adoration-filled half-smile, before she placed her hand on Delia’s leg, and muttered the words “I’ve missed you, too.”


	2. Wordless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events during the ride home, and after.

Delia hadn’t expected Patsy to be chipper, to want to dance and sing and kiss until the stars began to shine. She’d prepared for the mourning - for Patsy to cry on her chest, and work her way through every handkerchief Delia owned. She was prepared for this - wholly. She was filled with love and admiration for the girl sat centimetres away from her - she’d watched her own father deteriorate, and although she couldn’t even begin to understand the pain Patsy must be feeling - she couldn’t understand the way sadness clouded her mind, making even the brightest of smiles tenebrous, and even the softest of words sounded sharp to the distraught girl. It had only been a 8 days since her father had actually passed - Patsy had stayed for the funeral, and to help clear his living space. Delia looked to the other, who’d rested her forehead on the cold glass on the window, staring out, watching the trees pass beside them, and the cheery people stride along, without a care in the world. 

The journey back was blanketed in silence, but neither minded. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence - Delia was just glad she had her girlfriend back - grateful she was home, where she could be looked after whilst she mourned - not in Hong Kong, surrounded by objects riddled with memories, and the bleak reminder that her father would never return. The thing about grief was that it spared nobody - thought not of age, or gender, or relationship. Grief was everywhere - rife. To Patsy, it seemed as if grief targeted only her - obstructed only her views of life, love, and happiness. When somebody you love dies, it’s an awakening - either you realise you should treasure those you hold close, or push them away, because everybody dies, eventually. Everybody’s gone. Patsy shook herself out of the trance, to turn her head to Delia. She was so shrouded by her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the car was stationary, parked beside towering oaks. As she laid her eyes on the familiar features of Delia Busby, she realised not even grief would split them apart, she wanted to spend out her days with Delia - dancing in their kitchen, and kissing goodnight. She wanted to stare at Delia forever - stare at those dimples, the crinkles next to her eyes, the way strands of hair fell over her face, how pristine her fringe was, the few freckles that adorned her arms, like tiny stars on her skin. 

Seeing the girl you love stare bleakly out of a window, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill at any moment really makes you appreciate how much she means to you. When you see her raise her hand to her chest, clutching a tissue so tightly it could tear, you realise that whenever she suffers, you do, too. It was ever so prominent now, watching Patsy be completely overrun by sadness. “I love you,” Delia reached her hand out, touching Patsy’s. Patsy accepted the gesture, raising Delia’s hand to press her lips against the soft skin. “I love you, too.” The words sweetened the air - words couldn’t fix what Patsy felt, but it helped her remember she wasn’t alone - that when it all got too much, Delia would be here, with her arms outstretched and comforting sentences on the tip of her tongue. “Never, ever forget that,” Delia added, leaning over, and pulling the taller girl against her chest. Patsy choked out a sob, muffled by the teal wool of Delia’s jumper. Delia had never held the girl so close - she could feel Patsy’s heartbeat against her chest, and her red locks tickling her neck, and Patsy’s warm, shaky breaths against her skin. “God, I’m so sorry, darling,” Delia mumbled, her head buried into the crook of the others neck. The cars passed outside, speeding by nonchalantly. Time frozen within the metal walls of that car, and as long as it meant they had more time together, neither cared. 

They sat like that, with Delia rubbing Patsy’s back until it seemed like Patsy was drained of sobs, tears, and energy. When Patsy sat up, her usually stunning blue eyes were bloodshot, with bags underneath. Delia hadn’t prepared for all of this, but she’d be damned if she let Patsy go through it alone. Loving someone requires being there for all of it - tears, kisses, hugs, dancing, jealousy. Love, like grief, spared nobody. But Delia didn’t want it to - she wanted to help, she wanted to love Patsy; to make up for all the weeks she’d spent having to scrawl her adoration down onto paper, disgruntled at how little emotion blots of ink could display. “You’re sleeping in my room, okay?” Delia’s voice was soft, as gentle as Spring breeze. Patsy nodded, with a teary smile adorning her features “God, I’ve missed you, Busby,” on that note, Delia grinned, and started the engine again. 

Patsy watched Delia drive the entire journey home, making mental notes of the way she’d poke her tongue out when she had to make a sharp or tight turn, or the way she’d often move with the wheel. Little things she never, ever wanted to forget. Little things she’d hold dearest for the rest of her days - little features that temporarily took her mind off the anguish that seemed to have replaced the blood in her veins, the bleak feeling that coursed through her body. The nurse was all too familiar with grief, and knew how she dealt with it - but she’d done it alone, she’d not had a girl who mirrored the sunshine to help her through it, to hold her when the world outside seemed to be balancing solely on her shoulders, and the weight of loss kept her pinned to her bed. She had Delia, and she’d never felt so grateful. 

When the door of Nonnatus House came into sightline, she felt the same fear she’d first felt - Patsy stood by the idea of buildings looking scary - roughened brick walls, and dark-wood doors. Of course, this was home, but the prospect of so many people being in there frightened the life out of her. Delia had already taken Patsy’s bags inside by the time the other was ready to leave the noiseless sanctuary. Delia knocked on the window, and snapped Patsy away from the anxiety that plagued her already addled mind. Delia opened the door, her head cocked to the left. “C’mon, Pats. I promise they’ll leave you alone, it’ll just be me and you, all afternoon.” Delia’s tone poured with patience, and love. Patsy slowly nodded, taking Delia’s hand, without a care in the world. She clutched it for dear life, as if the mere motion of her fingers slipping from Delia’s would cause the concrete beneath her to open up. 

Inside Nonnatus House, there was no greeting party. No line up of the nurses and nuns, just stillness. Delia was responsible for that - she’d asked them all to please just go about their business, and she’d try and get Patsy down for dinner later. Thankfully, they’d respected her wishes, and just continued about as if Patsy wasn’t there. Delia ran her thumb over the elder woman’s knuckles, soundlessly reassuring her as they inched up the stairs. Patsy just stared at the ground, concerned she’d start crying and ranting if anyone even uttered a ‘hello’ to her. Delia could only hope the others took care of Patsy the way they’d taken care of Delia during the absence of her girlfriend. She knew they would, of course, there was no shadow of a doubt. Patsy only looked up as they neared Delia’s bedroom door, her vision was misted by unspent tears. The 8 days in Hong Kong without her father weren’t like this - she’d spent them with pursed lips, dealing with what she had to deal with; making arrangements with a steely expression, until she’d slink home and write to Delia, and that was when the tears poured, rendering some of the words ineligible, and the ink smudged. 

The air inside smelt familiar - it smelt of Delia’s perfume, and lavender soap. Patsy crumpled down on Delia’s bed immediately, despite there being another next to it. She pulled Delia’s pillow to her chest, her arms wrapped so tightly around it she feared the stuffing would pop out. “You can have the real thing, if you’d like?” Delia asked, perched on the end of the bed. Patsy turned, nodding wordlessly, and that was all the encouragement Delia needed to crawl up the bed, move the pillow, and have Patsy’s arms immediately wrapped around her, but not as tight as she’d hugged the pillow. 

An hour passed with them just like this, occasionally Patsy would murmur the words “Couldn’t help him” and Delia would press a kiss to her cheek, and remind her she did all she could. If this was the only way Delia could help, she was content with it. Patsy’s sad words stung her, and if that’s how awful it felt for Delia, she couldn’t even comprehend what the redhead felt. Delia could feel the material of her jumper being soaked with tears, but she didn’t care. Not even in the slightest. She was happy to have Patsy back, even with her sadness. “I’m sorry,” Patsy mumbled, her fingertips resting on Delia’s arms. Delia shook her head, and frowned. “You don’t have to be sorry, Pats. You’re allowed to be sad - I wasn’t expecting you to dance and sing and recite love songs,” Delia’s consoling words bought a small smile to Patsy’s lips, and even though the smile only lasted a second, it was something. It was enough to bring a smile to Delia’s lips, as well. “I’m just glad you’re back, where I can help you, even if it means just lying down with you,” Delia spoke lightly, her hands smoothing down Patsy’s hair, and her lips pressed against the other’s skin. She could feel the taller woman nod against her chest, and pull Delia closer by the waist, scared to let go for even a second. 

A significant amount of time passed - Delia listened to Patsy’s quiet sobs, stroking her hair and mumbling gentle words until the woman eventually fell asleep. A knock rang out, and Delia called a hushed ‘come in’. One by one, all of the nurses entered, each baring a different gift: Trixie bought a bouquet of daffodils and daisies, Valerie - a bag of her aunts broken biscuits, Barbara bared the gift of a cake tin, presumably with something in, and Phyllis entered with a bottle of bourbon, rested alongside a tray, holding two cups of tea. Delia smiled gratefully, as they all gave her reassuring, but sad looks. Valerie quietly mumbled “The nuns said to send their love,” before they all tip-toed out of the room. Not one had glanced, or found it visibly odd, that Delia’s fingers were interlaced with Patsy’s. Delia pulled the throw up over them, and shut her eyes, happily drifting off next to the woman she loved.


End file.
